


'cause no one should have to die that fast.

by cruciomysoul



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M, called marco, domestic! au, erejean - Freeform, phonecalls, there's a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciomysoul/pseuds/cruciomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>i could see your face, i could hear your voice</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	'cause no one should have to die that fast.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RobinRedR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinRedR/gifts).



He picks up on the third ring.

"What the fuck do you want, Kirschtein?" Eren growls, and Jean can't help it, he chuckles.

"That's  _Officer_  Kirschtein, to you," And Eren fucking snorts. Straight down the phone. It shouldn't be charming, shouldn't make Jean's face light up. But it does; it always does. "How'd you know it was me, anyway?"

Jean glances up at the roof of the phone box, where the red paint has chipped in places. Some of the glass has shattered, and every time he moves his feet, some shards crunch underfoot. 

"Of course it's gonna be you," Eren pretty much chirps, "No one else rings with an unknown ID." Jean  _hmmms,_  "You usin' the payphone again?"

"Yeah," Jean answers, and he knows the next question: _why_.

"Why?" Didn't he say he knew it? Jeez, Eren, you're so predictable. 

"Left my phone at home." Jean mutters, cringes inwardly, doesn't want to hear Eren's next words. Eren laughs, and Jean doesn't want to hear that either, not really, because it sounds too carefree, too wonderful, too much like Eren and  _Jean just can't, okay, he just can't._

"Well ain't you a little genius," Eren crows, and please, Eren, just  _stop._  "But you didn't have to ring," He sounds more serious now, and Jean slumps, against the wall of the booth, not caring about gum or dirt or not-so-dry paint, because why should he. 

"'Course I did," Jean mumbles, covering his face with his free hand.

"Nah," Eren disagrees, and he sounds so careless, really, it should be illegal, why isn't it illegal? You're the cop, Jean, make that shit illegal. "Coulda waited till you got home to talk to me. It's like, what, a 20 minute walk?"

"15, actually." Jean corrects him, then snickers. "Only takes you twenty 'cos you admire the doughnuts all the time." Eren laughs again, because not even he can deny that.

"Yeah, true. Hey, bring me one back?"

"Sure."  _I'd bring you a thousand doughnuts. One every day, if I could._  "What flavour?" Jean can picture the other end of the phone easily: Eren, standing with one hand on his hip, the other cradling his phone to his ear, as he thinks of what flavour he wants to try.

Eren, with his phone trapped inside the junction between his ear and shoulder, whilst he stands in their quaint little kitchen, preparing their dinner for the evening.

Eren, with his paintbrush in one hand, his mixing tray in the other, his phone tossed haphazardly somewhere on loudspeaker.

Eren, sat beside the fire with the throw blanket wrapped around him, and Marco, their dalmatian, curled up beside him.

Eren, putting the TV on mute and connecting his phone to the hands free so he can continue his match of Halo.

Eren, getting irritated at having to do things with one hand while the other holds the phone.

Eren, stood on the patio in the garden, playing fetch.

Eren, cleaning everything and everywhere.

Eren, talking to Jean.

"Did you get that?" Jean blinks, coming out of his stupor, his slump.

"Uh, no, sorry, can you repeat it?" Eren sighs, but Jean knows its a fond one. It always is, usually.

"I  _said,_  I'd like to try the strawberry one today."

"Just strawberry?" Jean repeats, and he's pretty certain that Eren nods, he's seen Eren nod so many times during phone calls and then only realise  _after_  putting the phone down that the recipient didn't quite see the nod.

Jean always laughs at his expression, the look of horror as he stares down at the phone.

"They're pretty sweet, you know." Jean talks, waits a beat, "But not as sweet as you." If he could see Eren, he'd wink. Eren laughs, loud and long, and when he's done, spits out,

"You cheesy fucker. Remind me again why I married you?" Well, that's simple, Eren, it's be-

"-'cause you love me." Jean's voice even sounds cheesy to his own ears, but he still doesn't care. Eren makes a non-committal noise, as if questioning Jean's explanation.

"I guess," He says eventually, and that's when Jean looks at the sky around him. The clocks went back last week, and now at half 5, it's almost pitch black. He should probably hang up soon, if he doesn't want to be out too late.

"Hey, it's getting pretty dark Jean, shouldn't you come home now?" Ah, Eren, the light in Jean's dark. A mind reader, whose thoughts are always on par with Jean's own.

"Yeah, I guess." He doesn't want to. It's nice, here, in this phone box. He'd buy it, if he could. Perhaps he could have a word with BT, they might cut him a deal.

"Besides," Eren does that a lot, carry on talking as if Jean - or whoever else he's on the phone to - hasn't spoke. "I'm about to go in the shower, I was literally peeling my socks off when you rang."

"Gross." Jean mutters, and Eren laughs, because they both know what Jean is going to say next: "Wait for me."

 And there it is; Jean can hear it in his voice. "Don't I always?" That sly grin, the one that bares his teeth and fuels the fire in his eyes. Jean closes his eyes, again, doesn't let the sign escape his lips.

"Yeah," He whispers, "Yeah, you do."

"All right," Eren says, easy, cheery. "I'll see you in  _fifteen._ "  _Of course you will._  Jean thinks, bitterly, and then,

"Love you." There's no hesitation on the other end,

"Love you too." And then a click. The line goes dead, and Jean sighs, looking down at the receiver in his hand. It's about another 30 seconds until he he hangs up himself, toying with the idea of putting another twenty pence coin in.

Thirteen minutes. That's how long it takes Jean to walk home. He doesn't dwardle, doesn't linger, doesn't even glance in the doughnut shop window. And he  _knows_  the strawberry jam ones are on offer.

He hears paws clattering against the wooden floor as soon as he pushes the door open, and by the time he's shut it, Marco is at his feet, wagging his tail, crying with excitement.

Jean crouches down, back resting against the door, and fusses him. The rest of the house is silent. "Hey boy," he whispers eventually, scratching him behind the ear.

They both look at the lead hanging up at the same time. It's been a few months since Marco has seen the outside of this house, besides the garden.

But it's far too late now.

**Author's Note:**

> why am i getting the inspiration _before_ nanowrimo gdi


End file.
